[Theoric Windcaller]

The Dwarf finally finished his mead. Two men stood at the bar, talking to the beautiful maiden innkeeper. The two were Gondorian from the looks of it, thought Theoric.

"Urrgh, Elves," Theoric mumbled. The fire had calmed and the pint of mead was gone when he looked down at it again, taken by the innkeeper.

Theoric began talking to himself. "Should I stay another night here?" "Maybe I should make conversation with a Hobbit." At that moment, he felt a sudden tap on the back of his head, like the one on his shoulder only twenty minutes earlier.

He turned and expected to see his brother and Baylin, but he saw only a Hobbit, wrapped in a hooded cloack like Theoric's and hooded, his face shadowed.

In a dark, sinister voice the Hobbit spoke to Theoric. "Have you any gold for a poor Hobbit?" asked the cloaked Halfling, staring into the Dwarf's hazel eyes.

"Aye, Halfling," said Theoric. "Come and sit with me a while."

The Halfling nodded and sat down on the chair next to the Dwarf. "A wanderer?" asked the Dwarf. The Hobbit gave no reply. "Well, you seem to be in a cheery mood," the Dwarf chuckled sarcastically.

The Halfling still said nothing. The Dwarf turned to the bar as he saw another pint of mead set before him. Songs erupted from a table near the door. "Maybe I was wrong about this place," the Dwarf mumbled. "I will stay a night or two, as long as I don't have to share a room with an Elf," the Dwarf grunted and went straight to his pint.